


Right Reasons

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Bachelor, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Reality TV, but look me in the eye & tell me he is not textbook bachelor villain material, but not incredibly so, i hate how much i know about this fucking show, i swear i’m not anti-stony i love steve rogers w/ all my heart, it's very good, phil coulson is the chris harrison of the bachelor: tony stark edition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14603922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Who is the next Bachelor 2018? ...it's Tony Stark!The most dramatic conclusion ever to "The Bachelor" abruptly ended Tony's happily ever after with Captain Steve Rogers, but that's just the start for America's sweetheart as he is named the next Bachelor for our newest, freshest season yet - premiering TONIGHT only on ABC!





	1. Week One - Season Premier

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [cptxrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers)' [hilarious edits](http://cptxrogers.tumblr.com/post/173705001864/cptxrogers-cptxrogers-avengers-infinity-war) on tumblr everything in [ironmess](https://ironmess.tumblr.com)' bachelor au tag. I started this half as an excuse to re-listen to every available episode of Rose Buddies and somehow it still isn’t the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written. Anyway can you believe it’s been a year since Rachel picked Bryan over Peter? Fucking travesty. Enjoy.

“We rolling?” A hand waves in front of the camera, lowered to reveal a handsome head of brown hair, an immaculately groomed beard, and a soft, dark set of eyes. “Hi. My name is Tony Stark, and I’m this year’s Bachelor.”

He takes a deep breath, rubbing at his temples, and holds a handful of ties to the fabric of his suit jacket. “Red? Gold? Red. Red and gold.”

_“More about myself? Alright, well, I don’t know that there’s anything I can say that those of you watching at home don’t already know about me.”_

He glances at himself in the mirror, all crisp edges. His tie is straight, and he tugs on it until it isn’t. His collar is tight until he loosens it. He runs a hand through his hair until it looks sufficiently tousled.

_“My parents passed when I was young. I was always younger–significantly so–than my peers throughout my education. Peers? I wouldn’t really use that word, not intellectually speaking. Classmates? Sounds a little juvenile. Anyway. I alienated most of my friends and business partners in my early adulthood. I haven’t had much luck in relationships in general. I used to think I didn’t need it, I had the whole genius billionaire thing going for me, but after the year I’ve had…”_

Flashbulbs light up his face against a white backdrop, smirk on his lips, rose in one hand. A producer gestures off-camera and he tilts his head just so. The shutters begin again to click in tandem.

_“I’m looking for love, but I’m also looking for stability. You know, someone grounding, supportive, etcetera. Somebody who isn’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit. And there’s Peter to consider, obviously, so someone who’s comfortable occupying the role of, you know, step-dad and role model and all that for him.”_

Back in the interview room, he flashes the camera an eye-crinkling smile, charming and a bit tired, and winks. “I’m just ready to get back in the game.”

 

———

 

_Malibu, California_

Tony Stark steps out into the entryway to his sprawling Malibu mansion at dusk, dressed smartly as ever and ready to begin.

“Good evening, and welcome to a very special new season of The Bachelor. My name is Phil Coulson, and I’m here to introduce our Bachelor for this year, Tony Stark. Here he is now.” Coulson gives him a firmer-than-necessary handshake, a silent warning to let this process go over smoothly if he doesn’t want to spend four hours in the makeup chair covering up a black eye. “How are you feeling, Mr. Stark?”

“I’m feeling pretty good, Coulson. Excited to meet the guys.”

“Anticipating any familiar faces?”

“[Censored], I hope not.”

Coulson leans in close with a tight-lipped smile on his face, and claps Tony on the shoulder a little too hard to be friendly.

_“Try to keep the swearing to a minimum, please, Stark,”_ he murmurs through gritted teeth, not quite low enough to go unheard by the mics. _“You’re making hell on earth for the editors as it is.”_

 

———

 

The first one out of the limousine, god help him, is Peter Quill. Still in his red leather jacket, headphones around his neck, with boots scuffed through to the lining, he walks right up to Phil Coulson.

“Tony? Oh [censored] you’re not Tony. Stark! Hey, man! Damn, you clean up good. Who’s the bald guy? Jeez, for a second there I thought I might have gotten the wrong reality. Long story. This wasn’t like, a dressy occasion or anything, right? Because my only real formal wear is back on the Milano, and it’s not exactly formal as much as it is ceremonial; I got it from these guys on Aedi when I helped them out of a jam this one time a little while back, you see, but really all the better to leave it in storage because I think it might actually be radioactive.”

Tony takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Right. What are you doing here, Quill?”

“I’m here to win your heart, dude! Isn’t that what this whole thing is about?”

“Who put you up to this?”

“Nobody?”

Tony scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Seriously! I’m kind of into you, okay? And I guess I haven’t done a very good job of communicating that, which is why I’m here doing this, but I don’t really get exactly what this is and nobody really told me anything, they just put some weird itchy powder on my face and pushed me in that limo. So what’s the plan here?”

“I. I honestly don’t know how to respond to that. Just go inside.”

 

_———_

 

_Peter Quill_  
_37_  
_“Star Lord”_

“Whatever. These a-holes have nothing on me. Anybody else here got a spaceship? Didn’t think so. Well, wait, I guess his suit is actually kind of a spaceship if you think about it? Or maybe just a really cool metal spacesuit. And [censored], there’s no way that king guy doesn’t have access to something like that, he’s gotta be loaded. I know they’ve got it pretty rough here in the Milky Way, but Terra can’t be that primitive, can it?” He covers his mic with his hand and turns to address the crew behind the cameras. _“Can it? Do you guys do intergalactic space travel yet?”_

 

——— 

 

A man with long, dark hair steps out of the next limousine looking profoundly uncomfortable with every aspect of his current situation, left shirtsleeve tied in a knot near the shoulder, and shuffles cautiously towards the entrance. “Uh. Hi Stark.”

“You’re [censored] kidding me. Is this a joke?” Tony turns to Coulson, who looks at him sharply.

“Alright, get the [censored] in my mansion. You’re going to be the first [censored] one to go.”

 

———

 

_James “Bucky” Barnes_  
_???_  
_Killed Tony’s Parents_

“I don’t know what to tell you. Things are complicated with Stark. I may or may not have even had the personal agency to carry out certain actions against certain, certain parties that resulted in certain consequences that could have, uh, potentially had a negative impact on the emotional development of the subject of this current conversation here… Ah, Stevie says I shouldn’t even be bringing this stuff up before I talk to a lawyer, so that’s it for the questions. _дерьмо_. When do we get the free food?”

 

———

 

“King T’Challa.” Tony inclines his head respectfully, eyes half-lidded, and holds out a hand for him to shake. “A pleasure to see you again.” T’Challa bows, takes the hand in his own, and instead brings it to brush against his lips.

“Please, Anthony, the pleasure is all mine.”

And for the life of him, in that moment, Tony finds himself unable to supply a witty retort. Or any kind of retort. His brain just sort of stalls out for a second there.

T’Challa stands and smiles.

“I will see you inside, Stark.”

 

———

 

_T’Challa_  
_34_  
_King of Wakanda_

“I have been seeing a lot of children walking around and making claims about their eligibility as potential partners, and it is cute, but not one of them is royalty. Not one of them has a kingdom. Half of them do not even own a house. The way I see it, I am the only man here who can match Anthony’s wit, and I am certainly the only one who surpasses him in terms of wealth and resources. So who is the real contender here?”

 

———

 

“What the [censored]? Is that a raccoon?”

 

——— 

 

_Rocket Raccoon_  
_24_  
_Horrific Genetic Experiment Gone Wrong_

“Am I a raccoon? Sure. Genius observational skills, Stark. Maybe he and Quill really will be a match. I’m also an engineer, an inventor, a bounty hunter, I’m pretty damn handy with a gun, the list goes on! Don’t put me in a box. Listen, I’m just here to see what all the fuss is about, and if I manage to get my hands on one of those high-tech suits, well,” he shrugs, sprawled so low in his chair that one of his ears crushes up against the armrest. “That would just be an added bonus and not at all the only reason I’m here on this garbage fire of a planet in the first place.”

 

———

 

“Tony, listen,” Steve starts, one foot still in the door of his limousine. Tony abruptly raises a hand to stop him.

“Nope. No. Uh-uh. Absolutely not. Who let him in here? Coulson? What is this?”

“Tony please, just give me a–”

“Give you a chance? Really. Go [censored] yourself, Rogers. I’m not doing this. God, turn off the cameras, gimme a minute.”

 

———

 

_Steve Rogers_  
_99 (Biologically 33)_  
_Captain America, Tony’s Ex_

“That… didn’t go the way I expected it to. But that’s alright. There’s a history there. At the end of the day, Tony’s gonna want me back. I’m sure of it.”

 

———

 

The introductory cocktail party goes off without a hitch, with the brief exception of an incident between the Odinson brothers that takes out half of Malibu’s power grid, but he has backup generators. Of course he does. He’s Tony Goddamn Stark. Let it not be said that Tony Stark doesn’t come prepared for a little bit of trouble.

 

———

 

“Can I steal you away?” Tony hears for about the tenth time that night, only seven minutes and a single glass of scotch into a fascinating conversation with Bruce Banner about his experiences with the long-term effects of Tetrodotoxin B on human libido, purely to sate a professional scientific curiosity, of course. The culprit of the hour is none other than T’Challa, who he really wouldn’t mind getting stolen away by until he sees Steve over his shoulder, approaching with that unreasonably handsome determined look on his face that can only mean a future headache for Tony. It used to mean sex sometimes, too. Or unnecessary heroics. Or actual, literal, very serious crime. It was honestly a wonder he’d kept his job for as long as he had.

“‘Scuse me a minute, gentlemen,” Tony says and rises from the couch before Steve can make his way over. He leans over the camera and asks something unintelligible, and a hand points down the hall in response.

“Hey, hey, hey, Coulson, come here a sec, I’ve got a question.”

Phil swears under his breath when he sees Tony coming, trying to hurry faster down the hall and pretend he doesn’t hear until Tony catches him by the arm. He turns, plastic smile already in place.

“Coulson! Glad I caught you, man. You sure I can only eliminate three of them tonight? Because I’d honestly prefer letting DUM-E perform open heart surgery on me to having to spend another second with at least five out there. Time isn’t cheap, Coulson, mine least of all.”

Phil’s composed façade cracks and he can’t help but laugh. “What are you, a prostitute now?”

Tony pauses, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Huh. Well I mean yeah, kind of, if you think about it.”

Phil actually can’t argue with that.

 

———

 

In the end, it isn’t hard to find the recipient for the first impression rose. Bruce is one of a select few in the world that can hold his attention with a single topic of conversation for longer than thirty seconds. Rhodey is the only one that can really keep up with him, he’s had so much practice over the years. T’Challa is witty, charming, and well-mannered. But only Stephen Strange has consistently surprised him tonight, and there’s no denying he looks handsome as sin in his tailored suit. When Tony pulls him aside, there is no pretense, no false modesty, just two people who understand each other as much as they understand how to play this game.

“Stephen, will you accept this first impression rose?”

“Mm, only if I can give you something in return,” he purrs, cupping Tony’s jaw with an unsteady hand and pulling him in for a gentle, lingering kiss.

The sound of glass shattering echoes through the mansion. _“Jesus, Rogers.”_

 

———

 

Tony taps on his glass to gather the attention of the room, as if he didn’t have it already. “Gentlemen, it’s that time of night. Time for the first rose ceremony. Please gather ‘round”

Stephen, T’Challa, Thor, and Loki are chosen first, unsurprisingly followed by Rhodes and Bruce. More surprising are the choices of Peter Quill, Logan (yes, _that_ Logan), Victor von Doom, and, inexplicably, Clint Barton, who neglected to even greet Tony before entering the mansion and spent most of his time inside perched atop the kitchen cabinets, heckling Steve Rogers and drinking coke out of a giant novelty wine glass.

With two roses left on the table and all the bearable choices and more already picked, Tony Stark thinks to hell with it all and throws common sense out the window.

“Rocket, will you accept this rose?”

 

———

 

_Steve Rogers_  
_99 (Biologically 33)_  
_Captain America, Tony’s Ex_

“Really, Tony? A raccoon? He would really rather date a raccoon than get back together with me? I’m sorry, I just don’t buy it.”

 

———

 

Coulson pokes his head in briefly. “Tony. Gentlemen. This is the final rose.” He pats Tony’s shoulder awkwardly with an outstretched arm, already on his way back out of the room. “When you’re ready.”

The four remaining men stand at varying states of attention–with the exception of Bucky, who instead sits crosslegged on the floor with his eyes closed and his head leaned up against the wall–while the rest look on. Drax follows the sweeping rotations of the ceiling fan with this eyes. Sam sways slightly on his feet, exhausted and nervous, but is positively glowing in comparison to Steve, who’s sweating bullets and looking pleadingly at Tony like he's just threatened to kill his entire family.

_“Christ, I can’t believe I’m doing this,”_ Tony says under his breath, head bowed, and holds the final rose out to the center of the group. “Steve, will you accept this rose?”

 

———

 

Tony slumps in his interview chair and huffs out a laugh, rubbing roughly at his face with both hands. “Oh,” he laughs, “that was a mistake.”

 

———

 

_James “Bucky” Barnes_  
_???_  
_Killed Tony’s Parents_

“Am I surprised? No. Am I disappointed?” Bucky shrugs. “Not really. Does anyone have a couch I could crash on until this is over? Steve drove me here and technically I’m still on the No Fly List.”

 

———

 

_Drax “The Destroyer”_  
_49_  
_Former Intergalactic Criminal_

“I don’t understand. How do I feel about Tony Stark rejecting me? Why would I feel anything about that? I feel nothing,” Drax says, clenching his fists and blinking rapidly, unable to look the interviewer in the eye. “I feel utterly indifferent. I only followed Quill and the rodent here so that I wouldn’t be forced to supervise Groot in their absence. I am indifferent towards Stark and this confusing, unjust process has not strongly impacted my emotions in any particular direction with the exception of mild annoyance. I am leaving now.”

 

———

 

_Sam Wilson_  
_39_  
_Former USAF Officer_

“I don’t know, man, at first I was just supposed to come along with Steve for moral support, but I got to thinking, hey, maybe I could actually have a chance with the guy. A better chance than Steve, anyway.” Sam lets out a short chuckle. “Guess I was wrong.”

 

———

 

Well into the morning of the following day, Coulson stands alone in the ravaged living room amongst scattered paper towels, champagne flutes, dirty dishes, and shards of glass and metal from what might once have been a window. Sighing to myself, he rolls up his sleeves and begins by pulling a serving dish out from where it had been wedged between two couch cushions.

_“[Censored] Stark and Barton and their [censored] [censored] [censored]. I can’t believe I ever [censored] agreed to this, [censored], oh Phil, it’s a great idea Phil, it’ll be good for PR Phil, leave it to us Phil, [censored], leaving me to clean up their [censored]–”_ He straightens suddenly and looks directly into the camera.

“Are you seriously [censored] filming this right now?”


	2. Week Two - Formal Wear Photo Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight on The Bachelor:
> 
> Tony sits in judgment with a special guest star. T'Challa goes in for the kill. Rocket might not be here for the right reasons.

Tony enters the living room with a flourish on Monday morning, waving a white envelope in his hand. “Good morning, guys! Who’s ready for this group date?”

A few cheer. Most are still blinking the sleep out of their eyes. Thor makes an effort to raise his mug of coffee in a cheer, but could have stopped at the raising part instead of bringing it black down swiftly and smashing it against the tile floor of the kitchen. 

“Much appreciated, Point Break.”

Tony rips open the envelope to reveal the first group date card of the season. “Let’s see what we’ve got. Formal wear, best dressed, blah blah blah… winner gets the rose, photos, etcetera. Okay, so we’re going to be doing a little formal wear competition, which I will be the judge of, and the winner of that will not only get the very first group date rose of this season, but also gets to join me in a little publicity photo shoot we’ve got lined up for later today. But before we start, there’s someone I want you all to meet. He flew all the way from New York City to be a guest judge for me in this little costume contest. C’mon out, Peter.” Peter Quill jolts up from where he had been dozing off on the couch. “Not you, Quill.”

Phil Coulson opens the door to the entryway of the mansion and steps back to reveal a wide-eyed Peter Parker gaping at his surroundings.

“Gosh, is this really your house, Mr. Stark?”

“Told you not to call me that, Parker.”

“Right, sor– right.”

“C'mon over here and meet the guys. Peter? Everyone. Everyone? Peter. You’ll all have a chance to see him later, but right now you have until eleven to get a _suit_ able–get it, suit-able, no? no, okay–outfit together for the big show. We’ll reconvene in the theater then. Your time starts now.”

As the men rush off to the races, the camera follows Tony and Peter in their slow stroll out of the foyer.

“So you really got me excused absences all week at school for this?”

“Kid, look at me. I’m Tony Stark, what can’t I do?”

 

———

 

Things are going well. Better than well; fantastic. Tony gets to sit and judge a bunch of well-dressed, attractive guys on their ability to dress well and be attractive, and spending time with Peter in the middle of this mess isn’t something he plans to take for granted.

Rhodey looks sharp as the day they met in a three piece navy ensemble and subtle red tie and Tony gives an obligatory cheer. Quill doesn’t really seem to understand the challenge itself and mostly stands there on the stage trying to chat Tony up until his time is up, but the fact that someone managed to get him out of that red jacket and into a suit in the first place is no small feat. Bruce tends more towards a casual style that works wonderfully for him. Stephen, Thor, and Victor von Doom all wear standard tuxedoes and white button-downs, but Doom is still wearing his mask when he comes out, which doesn’t exactly lend itself towards the professionalism aspect of the contest. Clint comes out in some crazy purple monstrosity that even Peter has to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing at, and Tony almost gives him the rose right then and there, just for that.

Then Steve walks out in a very well-fitting charcoal pinstripe suit and paisley tie, two-button jacket slung over his shoulder. Peter, who had been balanced on the back two legs of his chair, immediately rights himself, letting the front legs come clattering to the ground in a muffled scrape of metal against tile so loud the microphone barely picks up Tony’s soft gasp. 

“Is that Captain America?” Peter whips his head sideways towards Tony, who is too distracted to hear him.

After a moment, Tony crosses one leg over the other discreetly and takes a nonchalant sip of whiskey. “Pinstripes, really? Are you an insurance salesman from the 1940’s? Next.”

Steve visibly deflates, giving Tony his best, most devastating puppy-eyes look, which is in fact _very_ good. “But you wear pinstripes all the time.”

“Next!” Tony waves him off.

“Mr. Stark, what are you doing?” Peter whispers hysterically, once Steve has stormed off the makeshift stage. “That’s Captain America! And he looks amazing! What’s he even doing here?” 

Tony gives him a flat look. “I know I’ve told you about Steve before.”

Peter furrows his brow and squints at nothing for a few seconds, visibly struggling to come up with the memory. Suddenly his mouth falls open and he looks at Tony with equal parts dawning awe and horror.

“ _Captain_ _Steve Rogers_ is Burner Phone Steve!?”

“Yeah I don’t know how you didn’t connect those dots, Underoos.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you dumped Captain America.” Tony cringes at that. “Why did you guys break up? I mean, I know why, but he’s _Captain America_. Why is he here now? Is he trying to win you back? Are you gonna give him another chance? Oh my god, this must be super awkward for you. Oh my god. So that really is a breakup beard?”

Peter is still in quiet crisis when Logan steps out next in a grey two piece and loosely buttoned white shirt that, for all its charm and expert tailoring, still has Tony yawning.

 

———

 

 _James “Logan” Howlett_  
_186_  
_“Wolverine”_

“I’ve got no [censored] idea why I’m here. I saw the ad, Tony and I are sort of acquainted, but he doesn’t seem interested. Maybe I ain’t all that interested either. I dunno. And now there’s a kid in the mix? Hell with it.”

 

———

 

T’Challa emerges from behind the curtain with the rightful confidence of royalty in a long black jacket lined around the collar with ornate silver embroidery over a collarless charcoal shirt and black trousers. The smolder he gives Tony before turning and falling back out of sight is reason enough to name him the winner.

Tony bites his lip and applauds him through his exit. “Yes! That is how you wear a mother[censored] suit, baby!”

Peter puts his head in his hands. “Please stop, this is so embarrassing.”

 

———

 

 _T’Challa_  
_34_  
_King of Wakanda_

“Do you like it? My sister, Shuri, she picked out everything I am wearing. She usually does, when it comes to this kind of thing.” He smiles with pride, then frowns to himself. “She says that I have a poor sense of fashion. What is it about wearing sandals that lacks sense? They are very comfortable, convenient to put on, and pleasant to walk in. Sounds sensible to me.”

 

———

 

When Loki steps out in an all-black ensemble, Tony can’t help but whistle a little, and Loki tilts his head back in an appraising sort of way. He smirks. Loki smirks back. It’s all very nice and sexually charged until Peter nudges him.

“Seriously?” Peter asks quietly, raising a brow. “Don’t you think he looks a little greasy, though?”

In the blink of an eye, Loki has somehow traversed the area between the stage and the judges’ table and leans over said table, engaging Peter in the staring contest of his life.

“How _dare_ you, you little mongrel, you weasel-faced child, do not presume to know of my grooming habits or their relevance to Stark’s opinion of me.”

Tony starts in his chair. “Woah, hey, what the hell!”

“Oh! Sorry, Mr. Loki, Mr. Laufeyson– er, Odinson sir, Mr. Loki Odinson sir–”

“Peter, stop,” Tony sighs, clapping a hand on his shoulder and turning to Loki. “You can’t talk to my kid like that.”

Loki scoffs. “This is not a parenting competition, Stark. I did not come here to win this boy’s favor.”

“Alright, that’s fine.”

“And I– wait, really?”

“Yeah! Totally fine. You’re out.”

Loki furrows his brow and Tony stares back evenly. Peter stares straight into the camera in a silent cry for help, at an absolute loss for what to do. 

Seconds pass.

“I have to confess, I’m not sure what is happening right now.”

“If you don’t respect my son, you don’t respect me. Pack your things and get out of my house.”

Loki’s eyes darken, and he vanishes without a trace. 

Tony shakes his head. “It can never just be the normal nutcases with me, can it? They’ve always gotta have powers or some [censored].”

 

———

 

 _Loki Odinson_  
_1053_  
_God of Mischief_

“Stark can’t handle me. It doesn’t come as a surprise, so few mortals have ever been capable of such a feat. I do hope he gives me a call when he grows tired of playing house with the spiderling.” He sighs loudly, looking tragically put-out. “I suppose it has been worthwhile, though. I like the look of this Midgardian-style evening wear. I’ll enjoy wearing it on my next conquest– ah, trip to this tragic waste of a planet.”

 _“Uh, no,”_ a producer’s voice comes from behind the camera. _“Actually you have to return that.”_

“I didn’t quite catch what you said, could you repeat that?” Loki says pleasantly, extending his arm and letting a knife fall from the sleeve into his hand, blade wickedly sharp and polished to the point of shining.

_“Ugh, fine, never mind.”_

 

———

 

“But… I thought you liked him?” Peter asks carefully, still a little shaken.

Tony laughs, tightening the hand on his shoulder and jostling him a bit in his chair. “No, not really. Not that much.”

“Oh.” Peter presses his lips together. “Thanks M– um, dad,” he says, ducking his head, and Tony grins wide.

 

———

 

T’Challa gets the rose in the end. 

 

———

 

“Now T’Challa, I want you to keep your arms around Tony’s waist and put your head down a little, chin to his shoulder. No, not that one, the other– yes, good, that’s great! Now look up here. Okay, stay just like that.”

“Anthony,” he says, lips nearly up against Tony’s ear. “I would very much like to kiss you right now. Is that alright with you?”

Tony gives a strained laugh in response and breaks his pose to glance up at T’Challa in amusement and no small amount of anticipation. “Better than alright, big guy.”

T’Challa tilts his chin up with a finger and Tony meets him halfway, on tiptoes, to an open-mouthed kiss that has the photography team scrambling to catch at just the right angle.

“Brilliant! Stunning! You two just keep doing what you’re doing, we’ll handle the rest.”

Off to the side of the photography studio setup, the camera pans out beyond the sliding glass doors to the patio where the other men have congregated. It zooms in on Steve as he stares inside with a pained expression, gripping the top rail of a cast iron deck chair so tightly that the metal warps under his hand.

 

———

 

 _Steve Rogers_  
_99 (Biologically 33)_    
_Captain America, Tony’s Ex_

“I don’t think it’s beyond my rights as Tony’s ex to be concerned about his wellbeing. It’s not about me and him; it just seems like this T’Challa guy always has all the right lines, always knows exactly what to say to get what he wants. I’m just starting to think that he’s not here for the right reasons. It’s not about me and Tony. Really.”

 

———

 

Phil Coulson stands side by side with Tony on his private airstrip, waiting for the apparently delayed arrival of the lucky contestant that had gotten the first one-on-one date card.

“So what is this, like a day trip to Palo Alto type deal?”

Phil quirks a brow. “Did you not read the schedule for the rest of this week, Stark?”

“Afraid you lost me at ‘handsome young gentlemen’ and ‘formal wear contest.’”

“You know I don’t write that garbage.”

“No? Could’ve fooled me. The language definitely suits your flowery, romantic sensibilities.”

The limo finally arrives, and Phil turns and walks back to the mansion. “Well, this ‘handsome young gentleman’ in particular may very well offend yours,” he calls out over his shoulder. “Have a nice date, Stark.”

The legs that exit the limo are considerably shorter and hairier than he had expected. Tony follows them up a good three feet up and meets with a great big pair of fur-ringed eyes looking up expectantly at him.

“Ey, Stark! Quit staring and get a move on, we’ve got a show to catch!”

“Oh for [censored] sake, I forgot about the [censored] raccoon.”

 

———

 

Tony Stark is at the opera. As if that wasn’t already a sentence he would never have expected to hear or think or even begin to consider in his life, his current situation forces him to amend slightly: Tony Stark is at the opera, and his guest of honor is an anthropomorphic rodent with a fetish for big guns.

“So listen, I’m thinking after this is over, you could take me around the whole Silicon Valley place and show me some of those big developmental tech companies the producers were really hyping up in the car. That is, after they stopped looking at me like I was the weirdest damn thing they’d ever seen in their lives. Man, I know for a fact they have raccoons on this lousy planet, but I guess none of ‘em talk, huh? Ha! Ain’t I special! Going back to the tech, you Terrans might be ass-backwards and hundreds of years behind the rest of the galaxy, but lemme tell you, human technology sells for a pretty high price in Andromeda; you’d be surprised! It’s not every day you get to take a trip to the Milky Way, you know?”

Tony looks him in the eye, straight-faced (the former no small feat considering their height difference and the latter considering, well, he’s on a date with a talking raccoon who is in theory vying for his affection so that he eventually has a chance to woo and marry him), and tells him, “I don’t think this is going to work out.”

 

———

 

 _Rocket Raccoon_  
_24_  
_Genetic Experiment Gone Wrong_

“Goddamn! I was this close to getting the codes to Stark’s storage room, you know that? This close.” He not-quite-pinches his procyonine equivalent of index finger and thumb together, shaking the little clawed hand at the camera for emphasis. “Guess it’s back to the Milano for me, with [censored] all to show for it. I bet I could pick up one of those dumb BigDog robot things on the way; you would not believe what those things go for on Xandar. Friggin’ criminal. Waste of good parts.”

 

———

 

The rose ceremony at the end of the week goes by much faster than the last. Coming to the final rose, Tony can’t help but pick Steve again. It’s just a little too difficult to let go. Logan leaves that night without commotion, nodding politely to Tony on his way out.

 

———

 

 _James “Logan” Howlett_  
_186_  
_“Wolverine”_

“I guess it’s a relief. I can’t [censored] begin to tell you how much I hate being on camera.”

 

———

 

Everyone else has long since turned in for the night, or, more accurately, morning, when Tony walks Peter out to the airstrip. The cameras follow them at a distance.

“Don’t forget to call May and tell her you’re on your way.” 

“Yeah, I got it.”

“And text me when you’re home safe.”

“Alright, alright, I said I got it.”

They come to a stop in front of the private plane waiting to return him to New York and Peter kicks at a rock on the tarmac. He lingers, hands in his pockets, before turning and hugging Tony tightly.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments, they keep me going! I tried to answer the ones with questions and stuff, but I've read every one of them and they all made me smile. Enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> Next on The Bachelor: The boys go to New Orleans and a surprise contestant returns to the show.


	3. Week Three - New Orleans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight on The Bachelor:
> 
> The shocking return of a former suitor takes Tony and the contestants alike by surprise. Everyone takes a day trip down south for a good old-fashioned bayou boat tour. Tony and Rhodey go out for cajun and talk about the past, the future, and the little moments in between that make it all worthwhile.

Tony is lying blissfully on the couch with his feet in Bruce’s lap and Stephen’s fingers running through his hair, listening to the two of them exchange anecdotes from medical school and interesting research opportunities when Phil Coulson strides into the room looking flustered. This is cause for concern, of course, since Phil has never been witnessed by human eyes looking anything more expressive than mildly agitated in his life.

“Tony, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Seriously, man? I’ve kinda got a thing going here,” Tony says, leaving his eyes closed.

“Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.” He rises, giving Stephen a peck on the cheek before leaving he and Bruce to keep talking amongst themselves.

 

———

 

 _Stephen Strange, M.D., Ph.D._  
_41_  
_Sorcerer Supreme of Earth, Former Renowned Neuroscientist_

“Yes, I enjoy talking to Dr. Banner. Not that Tony can’t keep up, quite the opposite actually, but it’s nice to have the option to speak to someone else with more of a medical background. I don’t see the harm in making nice with the other contestants–unlike _some_ people in this house–particularly one as harmless as Banner. I don’t think the poor guy realizes how deep in the friendzone he really is.”

 

———

 

 _Robert “Bruce” Banner, M.D., Ph.D._  
_48_  
_“The Hulk”_

“Strange? Oh, that guy’s great. You should hear some of his crazy residency stories. Hilarious. But no, I don’t feel threatened by him in the least. I actually feel kid of bad for him, honestly. He’s got the matching facial hair and first impression rose going for him, but that’s about it. I, on the other hand, am coming into this game with a really solid friendship with Tony. You know what they say, the best friends make for the best partners.”

_“Do they really say that?”_

“What– yeah, sure they do! You’ve really never heard that before?”

 

———

 

Phil takes Tony by the arm and leads him nearly out of view of the cameras. “When you eliminated Loki outside of the show’s schedule, it threw the capacity for eliminations in the next few weeks off-kilter. They had to add on a reject from one of the last episodes, and, well… Look, for the record, I want you to know that I was strongly against the studio’s choice, but I only have so much control over these things, and for the producers, ratings are always going to be the top priority.”

It takes Tony a moment to realize who Phil is talking about. “You’re joking.”

At least Phil has the presence of mind to look abashed.

 

———

 

The camera catches Phil on the back half of a heavy sigh before he calls everyone over to the foyer and opens the door to the main entrance with poorly concealed discomfort.

“Gentlemen, a surprise suitor has returned to continue the competition!”

The moment Bucky steps across the threshold, the men fall silent. Not all of them know exactly why he was eliminated, but they all seem to have some idea of his past as it relates to Tony’s, because only Steve looks even remotely happy to see him. 

“Hey, Buck! What are you doing back?” Steve asks conversationally, as if they were in _any_ other situation than this one.

“Hey, Stevie,” he responds weakly, giving a little wave. 

The others stare.

Tony clears his throat to break the silence. “Well now that that’s out of the way. Coulson, the date cards?”

“Say the magic word, Stark.”

“C’mon, this is the television industry, Coulson, it’s all about instant gratification.”

Phil hands him the envelope.

“Okay,” Tony begins, skimming through the cards. “First things first, we have a group date with Stephen, Thor, Clint, Quill, and Doom, starting with a tour and ending with lunch. And Barnes comes too, I guess. Then to wrap things up, I’ve got a one on one with a very special platypus.” He winks at Rhodey. “But most importantly, I’m going to need everyone to go pack their bags and meet me down at the airstrip in fifteen, because we’re going to New Orleans!”

 

———

 

_New Orleans, Louisiana_

“We’re on our way out! Don’t destroy the house while we’re gone.” Tony waves and shuts the door behind him. From the window, the others follow him dow the driveway like ducklings, Bucky trailing well behind the rest. 

Steve and T’Challa look at each other. Rhodey looks longingly at the door. Bruce looks down at his shoes. Phil just looks concerned.

“T’Challa,” Steve says. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

 

———

 

To Tony’s surprise and almost no one else’s, Bucky isn’t even the problem on this week’s group date.

The date starts at the docks, where a tour boat waits to take them downstream. Victor tries to start up a conversation with Tony about the relative resemblance of their metal suits, but he’s too distracted by the bugs and the heat to even seem to hear him.

Stephen, Thor, and Peter Quill all fight for the right of who gets to sit next to Tony, and in their distraction, Clint slips past them and claims the seat for himself. Once that situation settles itself, Quill and Thor sit in the row in front of Tony, Stephen sits alone in the one seat row across from him, and Victor is stuck behind him with Bucky and looking none too pleased about it.

The woman trying to begin the tour is interrupted once again when Quill begins to complain about the humidity and Stephen immediately criticizes his ingratitude.

As the bickering in front of him rises to a crescendo, Victor Doom finally finds his opportunity to set himself apart from the rest. He leans over Bucky, who rolls his eyes but makes no move to push him back into his seat, and puts his arms on the backrest of Tony’s seat. “Stark, I’ve always felt that the two of us are similar, you and I. Coming from my place as a man with a deep understanding of your situation, I admire and respect you greatly. Your ability to, to rise above your circumstances–”

Tony cuts him off and gets up. “Doom, I’m flattered, but there’s a time and a place for this and it isn’t now. I have to go deal with this.” 

Victor falls back into his seat. Bucky gives him some strange approximation of a sympathetic glance.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

 

———

 

“Hey did you guys put the kettle anywhere? I can’t find it in any of the cabinets.”

When Bruce enters the living room, T’Challa and Steve have one another by the shirt collars. “You have been following Stark around like a lost dog since before we began filming. All that you are accomplishing by being here is hurting him. You–you think I am the one who is not here for the right reasons? That my intentions are impure? Perhaps you should look in a mirror!”

“Impure? What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one who’s just setting him up for heartbreak; I genuinely want to be with him! I have never wanted to hurt Tony once in my entire life!”

“It is with impact just as much as intention that we measure the worth of our actions!”

Bruce sighs and retreats back to the kitchen. “I guess I’ll just heat the water up in the microwave. Thanks.”

 

———

 

The men exit the boat in silence. Tony doesn’t take them to lunch.

“I want you all to know that I’m very disappointed in you today. You behaved like children, each and every one of you, except for Clint and Barnes, and god help me if I have to give Barnes a rose and keep him in for another week, so Clint, will you accept this rose?” 

While Tony pins the rose to Clint’s shirt, Clint points finger guns at Victor, who glares daggers at him from over Tony’s shoulder. The rest of the men stand off to the side, looking appropriately chastised and well on their way to overheated under the hot Louisiana sun.

 

———

 

The door to their condo opens. T’Challa and Steve freeze. The coffee table is in pieces, the cushions have been overturned, and there is a suspiciously T’Challa-sized dent in the living room wall. They untangle themselves and stand in a hurry.

“Jesus H. Christ, what fresh [censored] hell have I walked into now? Did I not tell you people to try to avoid razing the rental to the ground? What happened, did Banner hulk out or something?”

Both men start to talk at the same time.

“Tony, whatever he says, I didn’t–”

“Anthony I want you to know I never–”

“–you to think I’m not serious about this because I–”

“–was not my fault, I swear to you–”

He rears back at their outburst. “Wow, never mind, I’ll get the story from Rhodey on the way to the restaurant.”

“No! Hah, no, Tony, it’s fine. That’s not necessary.”

“Please, there is no need. Captain Rogers and I just got into a minor disagreement. Everything is fine now.”

“No need to worry. See? Best of friends.” Steve puts his arm around T’Challa’s shoulder, smiling a little too wide. 

The camera focuses in on a close-up shot of T’Challa’s face as his eye begins to twitch.

“O…kay, then. This is weird.” Tony squints at them for a moment before he turns his attention elsewhere. “I don’t have time for this right now. Oh Rhodey, light of my life, we’re gonna be late for our dinner reservations!”

 

———

 

“I have to confess, I’m a little confused here,” Tony says once they’ve sat down and ordered. “What we had in college was great. Best time of my life. You know you’re the only ex I ever had that hasn’t tried to kill me besides Pepper?”

“Tony, you’ve been in three long-term relationships for as long as I’ve known you and that constitutes two of them.”

Tony looks at him pointedly before he continues and Rhodey presses his lips together to keep from smiling. “But that was a while ago. You know I’ll always love you, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment, honeybear.”

Rhodey chuckles. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Tony. I’m only here to make sure you don’t make an ass of yourself on live TV.”

“Okay, one, it’s not live, and two, as if you’ve ever stopped me before. Does the name Senator Stern ring any bells?”

“Not your finest moment.”

“I would argue it was one of my better ones, actually.”

Then they’re both laughing and shaking their heads until the conversation dies and they fall into a familiar kind of comfortable silence.

“Good. I’m pretty happy with where we’re at right now.”

“Don’t get sappy on me now, man.”

“It’s not me! It’s all about the ratings with this bullcrap, you know that.”

Rhodey sobers up suddenly. “Is that why you’re doing this? Ratings?”

“It’s a whole thing. I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe when I’m not on camera every waking minute of my life for the next couple of weeks,” Tony says with an exaggerated sigh of faux-annoyance, but Rhodey isn’t having it.

“I’m serious! You’re not actually thinking of getting back together with Cap, are you? I mean, that would be one thing, but an engagement? Tony, that’s–“

“ _Later_ , Rhodey. you know I can look after myself. I know what I’m doing.”

“You definitely don’t, but alright. I trust you.” 

Tony laughs again. “That’s fair.”

Rhodey is offered a rose before he can even finish his maque choux, but declines. He’s said his piece. Tony doesn’t argue. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable for both of them, Rhodey having to watch Tony getting cozy with ten other guys on camera. So yeah, they agree, it’s about time to go.

 

———

 

 _James “Rhodey” Rhodes_  
_49_  
_USAF Officer, Tony’s Best Friend_

“Tony says he can handle it. I trust him. I don’t believe him, but I trust him. I can leave it there.”

 

———

 

Everyone makes it back to Malibu more or less in one piece, and Sunday night finds Tony tossing the final rose back and forth between his hands for a moment, considering it, before putting it back on the tray and crossing his arms. “Just come up here and take it, Steve.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, looking a little peaked. The suspense can’t be any better for his heart than it is for his level of hydration; he’s practically sweating through his shirt again.

“Don’t make me change my mind, Rogers. Barnes, you’re out of here.”

“I know the drill,” Bucky replies, one foot out the door already. “Catch you later, Stark.”

“Yeah, try never.”

 

———

 

 _James “Bucky” Barnes_  
_???_  
_Killed Tony’s Parents_

“Please don’t bring me back again,” he says to a producer off-camera, bordering on desperate.

_“No promises.”_

 

———

 

“So wait, you just got up from under the table, almost completely nude and covered in champagne, and nobody said anything?” Bruce asks in disbelief between bouts of laughter, near tears.

Stephen nods vehemently.

“ _No_.”

“Yes! I did, I swear to you, not one of them said a word.”

“I can’t believe that. God, if I had pulled a stunt like that in grad school…”

“Well I didn’t do it on _purpose_. And I think you’ll find that you generally have a great deal more leeway with these kinds of things when people desperately want to hire you after you graduate.”

Bruce snorts. “You can say that again.”

He’s just beginning to wipe his eyes and catch his breath when Thor bursts into the room and rushes towards him.

“Banner, my friend! What is this? What’s happened? Are you crying? Who did this, was it this miserable witch of a man?” He points a threatening finger at Stephen.

“Woah there.” Stephen puts his hands up placatingly. Thor turns his attention back to Bruce and starts to run his hands over his shoulders and chest as if checking for injuries.

“No, no no no, I wasn’t cry–quit that, man–I wasn’t crying, I was laughing. Stephen was just telling me a funny story from when he was studying medicine.”

“Is that so? I would very much like to hear one of these stories!” Thor booms, looking suddenly jovial. He sits eagerly across from them, elbows on his knees and chin propped up in his hands, looking at Stephen with a mix of expectance and eagerness. Bruce mirrors his expression from his place at the opposite side of the couch.

“Ooh, tell him the one with the whipped cream and the chief of orthopedics.”

“A-alright,” Stephen says, hesitant for a moment before he recovers and reassumes an exaggerated orator pose. “It was an unusually slow night at the hospital, and as a result I had a little extra time on my hands…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on The Bachelor: 
> 
> Seoul and yoga and a spa day, oh my!


	4. Week Four - Seoul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight on The Bachelor:
> 
> Tony and Stephen jet off to Seoul for a couples' yoga class. Steve and T'Challa set aside their differences in the face of a common enemy just in time for what Tony anticipates to be a very relaxing group date. Unexpected (read: inexplicable) tensions begin to rise between Bruce Banner and Thor.

“You good to go, Strange?” Tony calls from the top of the stairs, rolling his eyes playfully at the camera. “Guy almost takes longer to get ready than I do, I swear.”

“What was that, Tony?” Stephen's voice floats up from the ground floor, the rest of him soon to follow. One of his hands, fingers spread wide and palm facing up, is glowing orange, a sure sign of magic to follow. Sure enough, after a few seconds, his bags glide over the stairs and come to a halt, hovering just behind his head. 

“Nothing, dear.” Tony turns to address the room at large. “Alright everybody, listen up! Thor, Bruce, that means you, eyes up here, c’mon. I know we’ve been over this, but just to clarify in case anyone in particular is still confused about certain aspects of the plan, _Quill_ , I’m going to go over it one more time. Stephen and I are going to Seoul for our one on one this morning, and tomorrow you all will get on the plane with Coulson and meet me in Busan in time for the group date, which includes Quill, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and Steve. Any questions?”

Steve raises a hand. “Yeah, just one. Why does the bargain bin Wizard of Oz here get to be alone with you in another country for an entire day when I haven’t even been able to get five minutes with you this whole time?”

“Shut up Rogers, you look like a public safety advertisement on the dangers of steroid abuse. Tony doesn’t owe you his time. If being his ex gave you any kind of advantage in this competition, why did a talking raccoon receive preferential treatment over you for a full week?”

“And that, boys and girls, is what we call a burn.” Tony slides his sunglasses down over his eyes. “Up top, Merlin.” 

 

———

 

“Can you believe Tony is taking Strange out for yoga instead of me? Why does he get the yoga date? The guy spends six months in Nepal and suddenly he’s a master? Screw that guy!” Banner pauses midway through his rant and looks to Thor, who nods attentively. “I spent six _years_ in India and Southeast Asia. I had to meditate every day for hours just to keep the big guy in check. And he thinks he can come in here and distract us all with funny stories and steal Tony out from under me with his dumb beginner moves?” 

“His stories were quite funny.”

“Screw him, man!”

“Yes! Screw him indeed! But Banner, why do you care so much about what he does with Stark? You told me that we–”

“Hey hey keep it quiet! There are cameras watching somewhere around here, remember. In fact, you’ve gotta start calling me names, like dumbo or four-eyes or something like that, just to avoid questions.”

“I thought you said dumbo was a compliment.”

“Ah damn you’re right… uh, like with some of the guys that fight around the house over Tony, saying they hate each other’s guts, and that they don’t have a chance at winning his heart? We have to start doing that. Remain in normal behavioral parameters for this kind of thing, you know?”

“I see.” He doesn’t really seem to, but this answer is good enough for Bruce, who gives him a small pat on the back. He beams.

Elsewhere in the mansion, Steve and T’Challa are seated across from one another on the sofa.

“Captain Rogers, while I may not fully comprehend why, I understand that you have a problem with me, but do you not think that we have a common enemy? While we have been distracted bickering amongst ourselves like children, Stephen Strange has taken advantage and monopolized all of Anthony’s time. You heard how he spoke to you this morning; he has no respect for you as a peer or as a competitor. We must put aside our differences and stand against him if either of us hopes to win this competition.”

Steve considers his words before nodding firmly. “I respect that. Alright, so how are we going to deal with Strange?”

 

———

 

 _Steve Rogers_  
_99 (Biologically 33)_  
_Captain America, Tony’s Ex_

“He’s right. This Doctor Strange character is the greatest threat right now to both of us. And what exactly are his intentions with Tony? He sure is laying it on thick from what I’ve seen. Most of his money is gone, he can’t work anymore because of his hands… I mean there has to be something behind that, right? I’m just trying to look out for Tony here.”

 

———

 

 _T’Challa_  
_34_  
_King of Wakanda_

T’Challa laughs to himself. “That should keep them both busy for a while.”

 

———

 

The yoga instructor can’t get two words out of his mouth before Stephen dismisses him. 

“We won’t be needing your help today, sir, thank you.”

“What? But you guys hired me to–”

“Not necessary, I’ll take things from here. On your way, now.” Stephen gently guides him back out the door and shuts it in his face. He turns back to Tony with a smirk.

“Now that he’s out of the way, how do you feel about trying something new?”

Stephen’s idea of something new is some crazy contortionist poses that hurt Tony’s brain almost as much as they hurt his spine. To start, Stephen has him stand flat as a board and gently lowers him onto his own hands and feet, pushing up onto his hip bones until Tony is lifted completely off the ground. Tony looks vaguely traumatized at the suddenness of it all. They stay there for a moment, getting a sense of balance, getting accustomed to this new state of being.

“Did you learn this in Nepal?”

Stephen laughs. “No, a studio in Lower East Side, actually. They were the only place within walking distance that held free classes one day of the week. Sorcerer Supreme isn’t exactly a step up from neurosurgeon, financially speaking.” 

“I can imagine.” Tony laughs along with him, hanging in the air, hands together, eyes locked. Stephen’s chuckle fades into a soft smile.

He guides him through a few more basic moves with steady, strong arms and a few terrible obligatory jokes about stiff muscles that somehow just make him all the more endearing in Tony’s eyes. 

“So remember, your job as the flyer is just to stay balanced. As the base, I'm doing all the heavy lifting here. You don't have to worry about that. Now I’m going to bend my leg. Keep your arms straight. Put your right foot on my calf, that’s it, then the other. Find a stable seat on my feet, I’ve got you. Okay, I’m going to grab hold of your ankles and you’re just going to shift forward, back arched a little, until my feet are on your lower back and your head is hanging upside-down. Once again, a lot easier than it sounds. Don’t worry.”

“Oh I don’t know about this, Doc,” Tony laughs nervously. “I think you’ve got me at my limit here.”

“Tony, look at me. You can trust me. I won’t stop you if you’re sure you want to get down, but you’ve made it this far already. I’m here to catch you if you fall.”

“ _When_ I fall, I think you mean.” Tony attempts the position anyway. It’s a near thing, but he falters and hunches his back, bending in instead of out and losing his balance on Stephen’s outstretched legs. Expecting to fall on top of him, Tony tenses, only to feel another set of arms on his waist, holding him up.

“Wait, what?” He cranes his neck until he can see Stephen out of the corner of his eye, sure enough, with two more arms than he remembered. He jolts back on instinct, and then Stephen can’t do anything to keep him from falling to the floor.

“What did I tell you? I fell, didn’t I?”

Stephen shrugs. “Yeah, you fell. But first you flew.”

Tony stares flatly at Stephen until he cracks a smile. 

“Oh my god, shut up.”

They both start to laugh, collapsing to the mats in a heap. They lay there for a while, saying nothing and enjoying the silence.

“So, you can make a bunch of arms, huh? Can you, you know, duplicate other–”

“Yes.” Stephen winks.

“Oh, okay. That’s cool, yeah.” Tony shrugs, doing his best to pretend he doesn’t notice the hot flush crawling up his own neck. Judging by the look on Stephen’s face, he isn’t doing an excellent job.

 

———

 

“Welcome to Busan, everyone.” Tony spreads his arms wide then clasps his hands together. “Let’s talk schedule! One on one is out of the way; it went great, by the way, if anyone was wondering.” Steve makes a face like he just ate an entire lemon. “Tomorrow we have spa day and then we all head back together, so get all your energy out, go sightseeing, do whatever, just be ready for a very relaxing group date.

 

———

 

A relaxing group date, it is not. Clint ‘steals Steve’s spot’ next to Tony and one of the masseuses has to take him outside until he quiets down to avoid disrupting the atmosphere. Thor and Bruce spend the entire time exchanging bizarre insults for reasons that Tony has long since stopped trying to fathom. Quill actually gets it in his head that it would be a good idea to get up out of his chair and massage Tony’s feet himself while Tony has his guard down, which doesn’t end very well for him if the bloody nose is any indication. 

He just wants it to end. And finally, it does.

“Gentlemen, the plane will be here in thirty. Could you all head on down to the airport and give me a moment alone with Clint?”

The other men start at that, because Clint is snoring steadily in his chair and, unlike the others, has made no effort and done nothing but ignore Tony all afternoon. 

“Seriously?”

“Tony, he’s sleeping.”

“Yes, thank you Rogers, I have eyes. Please give us the room.”

They shuffle out in varying states of frustration. Steve is the last to go, giving Clint one final glare–not that he can see it–before he turns out into the hall and beyond Tony’s line of sight.

The snoring stops abruptly. “Are they gone?”

“Yeah, they’re gone.”

“You’re not gonna give me another rose, are you Stark?”

“No, man, but let them think that. It gives me about five extra minutes of blissful silence if you’d just shut up for a minute.”

“Okay but first can we please talk about Rogers–”

“Barton, I swear on the Mark L, I will end you.”

Clint raises his hands in defense from his reclined position in the spa chair. “I’m not saying anything!”

“Great, then quit saying things.” Tony takes a deep breath. He finds he’s been doing that a lot lately. “Just. Can we just sit here for one second? Please? Before the plane gets here and I have to go back and deal with these toddlers for the next five uninterrupted weeks?”

Clint sighs and quiets down. Unfortunately for Tony, he can only stay silent for so long.

“Sooo,” he drawls, “who are you gonna send home tonight?”

Tony furrows his brow from under the cucumber slices. “I don’t think we should be talking about this on camera. Just because you don’t give a damn about acting like it doesn’t mean you’re not still technically a contestant.”

“They’ll edit it out,” He insists, waving his hand dismissively. “They’re not gonna put anything in there that interferes with their grand romantic vision, trust me. I know these kinds of things.”

“You actually watch this trash?”

“And you don’t?” Clint sticks his tongue out. “Nah, you know I don’t have a cable box, dude. Katie shows me clips sometimes, though. Never mind. Answer the question.” 

Tony huffs, then clicks his tongue a few times in thought. “I was thinking about Doom. I thought it might be fun to get with him outside of the whole all-powerful genius sorcerer supervillain shtick, but I don’t know. And he was getting kind of weird with it on the last group date; the guy has some serious issues with childhood trauma or something. Plenty of that to go around already.”

“Plus he’s an honest to god international criminal and you’re probably breaking several laws getting him on the show in the first place, so there’s that.”

“There’s that,” Tony agrees.

Clint bites his lip, hesitant, then slowly lifts one of the cucumber slices up to give Tony a side-eye. “And Cap?”

Tony sits up abruptly and begins attacking his face with a towel to scrub the clay out of his skin. He turns away from Clint. 

“Okay, you know what? I knew you were gonna say something, I knew it. Give it a rest, [censored]. First Rhodey and now you. What is this, the Tony Stark Defense Squad? I don’t need this stupid pseudo-fraternal overprotective relationship interference all of a sudden. I know what I’m getting into. You know I know what I’m getting into. Don’t ask again.”

“…You done?”

“You’re an ass, Barton.”

Clint grins. “Why don’t you send _me_ home, then?” 

Tony flips him off.

 

———

 

Victor is not offered a rose that night, and Steve isn’t even last to be picked this time around, to Clint’s immense entertainment.

 

———

 

 _Victor von Doom_  
_[REDACTED - CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]_  
_Supervillain_

“I cannot imagine how this happened. We are so similar, I thought I could… No matter. I will be back. I say this to you, Tony Stark: you have broken my heart, and now, when you least expect it I am coming to take yours.” Doom frowns. “Not in a romantic way, of course, in the very literal taking your heart out of your chest way. Hey, you, behind the camera! Are you laughing at me? Stop. I _command_ you to stop.”

 

———

 

Steve rushes to catch Tony on his way out after the Rose ceremony.

“Tony, listen, I think we’re making some good progress here, if you could just give a chance to say something. Five minutes, please.”

“It’s almost midnight, Steve, I’m not doing this.”

“Come on Tony, don’t you,” Steve cringes at his own line of thought before powering through and saying it. “Don’t you kind of owe me just a little bit for all I've done?”

Tony laughs incredulously. “Oh wow this is absolutely not happening right now.”

“What have you ever done for Tony, exactly?” Stephen interrupts, quite possibly literally from out of nowhere, laying a protective hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows at the camera and clears his throat.

“Well! If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, er… Coulson, yeah, Coulson needs me for something.”

They watch him go.

“How dare you.” Steve snarls the moment Tony has left the room, his face inches away from Stephen’s. “I would die for Tony Stark.”

“You fake bitch, I _did_ die for Tony Stark. You almost killed him!”

Steve has his fists raised and a bright, crackling orange light is just beginning to emanate from between Stephen’s outstretched hands when a loud crunch stops them in their tracks. The noise continues as the camera slowly pans left to the kitchen, revealing an amused Clint sitting at a countertop, legs swinging and one hand shoved into a red-striped paper bag.

Stephen blinks. “Are you… eating popcorn right now?”

“Yeah, you want some?” Clint says through a mouthful of the stuff. Another loud crunch and he gasps, holding a hand to his mouth. “Ah, ouch, I bit a kernel. Oh [censored] that really kinda hurts. Hey you’re like, an actual doctor, right? Can you look at this? I seriously think I just chipped a tooth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, as hard as I tried, no dialogue in this AU (or the real actual show itself) will _ever_ live up to the insurmountable standards of the legendary Gary Oldman from The Fifth Element burn in Jojo's season. And yes, as the The Bachelor: Tony Stark Edition post that inspired me to write this in the first place, I absolutely had to include ironmess' [you fake bitch](https://ironmess.tumblr.com/post/173706913536/at-the-bachelors-mansion) line, it was completely mandatory. 
> 
> Next on The Bachelor:
> 
> Things come to a head with Bruce and Thor in a dramatic two on one date in scenic Reykjavik and Tony has a special moment with an unexpected contestant.


	5. Week Five - Reykjavik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight on The Bachelor:
> 
> Tony brings back a special guest star to help him decide between Thor and Bruce in the first two on one of the series. A group date scuffle at the Blue Lagoon leaves someone caught in the crossfire. T'Challa finally just takes Tony out to get wined and dined, because after the week he's had, somebody's gotta do it.

Stephen emerges from the bunkroom early Monday morning in plain pajamas and sleep-tousled hair, presuming himself to be the first up, and jumps when he sees Peter Parker at the counter, leaned over a physics textbook and devouring a bowl of dry cereal. He looks around and composes himself, then clears his throat. 

“Um. Good morning, Peter.” 

“Oh! Hi again, Mr.– uh, Mr. Doctor. Mr. Doctor Strange.”

Stephen closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Peter, please, just call me Stephen. I am–or was, rather–a medical Doctor. My real, legal name, the one written on my birth certificate, is Stephen Strange. I have a PhD. Nothing has been made-up.”

Peter ducks his head. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Tony make coffee yet?”

“I… I don’t think he’s up yet. Clint made some a little while ago, though. Maybe. It could also be high-octane gasoline. The stuff in the pot should still be warm.”

Stephen pours the dregs from the coffee pot into a colorful ‘don’t talk to me until your chakras are aligned’ mug that has Peter biting his lip to keep from laughing at. The coffee–coffee?–actually does look like rocket fuel. He sips at it and coughs. It tastes a little like rocket fuel, too. 

“Just what I needed. Thank you.”

“No problem, Doc.”

Stephen laughs quietly and puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder in passing, and Peter can’t help but smile bashfully into his cereal. “Seems like that’s as close as it’s going to get with you Starks. See you around, kid.”

 

———

 

Peter Quill is last to come out of the bunkroom, and he looks absolutely overjoyed to see Peter Parker back in the mansion. He runs back down the hall and returns in seconds with a cassette in his hand.

“Check it, this is the one I was was talking to you about last time,” Quill says, handing Peter one of his old mixtapes with a flourish.

“Hey, thanks man!”

“No problemo, little Peter.”

“Do you have Spotify?”

“No, what’s that?”

Peter pulls out his phone to show an enthusiastic Quill the intricacies of Earth’s most prolific music streaming service, and the camera pans to where Tony is watching from across the room, looking dumbfounded and more than a little proud. Stephen sidles up to him, takes his hand, and wraps it around a generously large mug of coffee.

“This–oh, god, thank you–this is unbelievable, are you seeing this? You know the kid’s never called me by my first name, and they’re on nickname basis now? They’ve seen each other a grand total of three times that add up to around twenty minutes, probably. When did they even have the time to talk after the photoshoot?”

“Is it really that much of a surprise? It’s easier for Peter to relate to someone closer to his own maturity level. Not that you’re incredibly far off yourself, Stark,” Stephen says, teasing, and nudges Tony gently with his shoulder.

“Huh.” Tony doesn’t take the bait. He watches Peter give Quill a loose fist bump, looking almost oblivious to the camera for the first time since he had arrived. “How about that.”

 

———

 

Tony leans back in his interview chair. “I’m really interested to see where things go with Quill. He’s really stepping up to the plate when it comes to Peter. I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t expecting much, but I’m impressed. I haven’t been able to catch much time with him because of the absolute circus sideshow of insanity and unchecked testosterone that’s been my life for the past few weeks now, and he might be just as nuts as the rest of them, but who knows?” He shrugs. “Plus he has a spaceship. And a fantastic ass. What’s not to like?”

 

———

 

_Peter Quill_  
_37_  
_“Star Lord”_

“Yeah, the kid’s pretty cool. Not as cool as me, obviously, but hey, that’s what I’m here for. That and trying to impress Tony, I guess, but those two things are completely unrelated. Unless I could figure out a way to do both at the same time… Nah, I’ve got nothing. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’m always happy to take on another little mentee. Just look how great Groot’s turning out!” 

Quill pushes a few buttons on a smartphone and holds it up proudly, displaying a live feed of the cockpit of the Milano. The camera zooms in and a faint image of Groot and Rocket can be made out on the screen. _“I am Groot,”_ Groot scoffs in response to something Rocket says, turning his back to the camera and putting his feet up on the dashboard.

“Hey! Watch your language, young man! That’s totally inappropriate. He’s going through kind of a phase right now. He’s not usually like this, I swear.”

 

———

 

“So! We’re going to Reykjavik next I guess, good stuff,” Tony says with that bizarrely charming combination of mania and chronic exhaustion that only he can pull off so well. “I’m still on my first cup of coffee so Coulson’s gonna be reading the date cards this week.”

“What? No–”

“Nope, too late, somebody’s gotta do it.” Tony shoves the envelopes into his hands and rushes off to the kitchen, and Phil sighs the doleful sigh of someone who doesn’t want to do something but just can’t quite bring himself to care enough to put energy into fighting it. 

He opens the first one.

“First we have a two on one date. Bruce and Thor. Tuesday evening. Dinner. At a restaurant. Peter, you’ll be going with them.”

Peter shoots him finger guns from on top of the kitchen counter.

“Can’t you put a little more energy in there, Coulson? Tony always gets us hyped up for the dates,” Bruce pipes up from the chair that he’s sharing with Thor, completely unnecessarily.

“No. Next is a group date. Quill, Strange, Barton, and Rogers. Blue Lagoon, Thursday morning.”

Stephen raises a hand. “I absolutely refuse to go on a group date with Steve Rogers.”

“Okay, you have to, so take it up with the producers if it’s a real issue.”

Steve is next to raise his hand to speak, directing his best sad puppy look at Phil. “I don’t understand, Coulson. I thought we were friends. Why would you put me with someone like Strange?”

“I can’t– I didn’t write these. You guys know I don’t write these, right?”

“Yeah, while we’re all talking about our issues with how you write the cards, how come I haven’t gotten a one on one with Stark yet?”

“Relax, Quill, plenty of us haven’t gotten one on one time with Tony. Quit acting special.”

Clint emerges from behind the couch. “Hey Phil, read the next date card in a funny accent.”

“There are no more cards.” Phil drops the envelopes and their contents on the floor and walks out of the room. “I hate all of you.”

 

———

 

“So how exactly is this thing gonna work?” Peter asks Tony on the brief walk to the restaurant where they’ll be meeting Thor and Bruce for dinner.

“It’s simple. We all sit down for a nice meal, we get up and talk out the options, and you just tell me which one you like better. You don’t have to stay for when I give the winner a rose if you don’t want to. I sure wouldn’t. Happy can give you a ride back to the airport.”

“Whichever one I like more? But Dr. Banner is so cool! And Thor is… he’s Thor! That’s like asking me to compare Marie Curie and Brad Pitt! And obviously Curie would win out by a long shot in that very specific example, of course, but this is _Thor_ we’re talking about here.”

“You know none of this matters in the long run, kid, don’t sweat it. Nobody’s going to be mad at you. And remember not to worry about the cameras. I know it’s intimidating feeling like you’re being watched all the time, but the sooner you put it out of your mind, the less stressful this is going to be.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“You’ve got this.” Tony puts a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder.

They enter the restaurant and are stopped in their tracks at the sight before them. The camera follows their wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed line of sight to a table in the far corner of the mostly empty restaurant, where Thor and Bruce are already seated, kissing and clinging to one another like their lives depend on it.

 _“Oh my god, look, get all the cameras back on the table.”_  

_“Please tell me we’re getting this.”_

The camera suddenly switches back to Tony and Peter. Tony gazes onwards in utter shock. Peter looks up into the camera with a disbelieving grin and gestures at the table. 

“What the fuck, is this allowed?”

Bruce and Thor freeze.

Peter does too when Tony breaks his stunned expression to level a stern frown in his direction.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I really couldn’t help it, it’s from a Vine, I had to,” he says desperately, waving his hands in defense.

Tony gives him a blank look. 

“Seriously? Oh boy… okay, so in 2013, this app called Vine launched and basically the whole thing is like posting six second videos and they can’t be any longer than that but it created this really specific kind of concise comedy and a lot of them were so funny they became memes, and I know you know what memes are, but the whole platform got shut down last year because they weren’t making money or something? But anyway–oh jeez it’s just not funny when you have to explain it–but there’s this one video where these two are getting all gross in a restaurant, pretty much exactly like that,” he gestures behind him; Thor responds with a smile and a little wave, and Bruce puts his head in his hands. “And the guy points and goes, well he says what i just said.”

“Peter.”

“So I wasn’t actually swearing I was just quoting– yeah?”

“You have to stop.”

“Oh. Okay.”

No one quite knows what to say after that. The camera turns back to the table, where Bruce is having a minor nervous breakdown.

“Oh christ this is so embarrassing, oh and on camera, we’re in public, on camera, oh I hate this,” he babbles quietly into the tablecloth, hands clasped around his neck. Thor pats his shoulder sympathetically.

 

———

 

“I’d like to speak to Bruce and Thor alone for a moment, please,” Tony says once things have calmed down a little.

_“Um, well, no. No we can’t do that, it’s actually show policy–”_

“Sure you can. Hey Pete! Can you, y’know,” He raises a hand, wrist out, and shakes it a little. “Web up that camera there?”

“A–are you sure, Mr. Stark?”

_“Please, please don’t, these are so expensive.”_

“Psh, I can buy you new ones. Better ones, actually, so I’m really doing you a favor here. You’re welcome. Just going to take off this microphone, Brucie, if you could help your boy toy there out of his…”

As Tony’s voice fades out of range of the mic, Peter winces and raises his wrist towards the camera.

_“No, no no, Mr. Parker, please–”_

“Sorry!”

The camera clatters to the ground. Everything goes black.

 

_———_

 

_Robert “Bruce” Banner, M.D., Ph.D._  
_48_  
_“The Hulk”_

_Thor Odinson_  
_1054_  
_God of Thunder, King of Asgard_

“We’re just gonna go ahead and head out now. Everything’s fine, we’re all parting on completely amicable terms. What Tony told us, he told us in confidence, so we’re not really…at liberty, yeah, at liberty to discuss it.”

Thor laughs. “This entire ‘game’ is just a farce, are you all truly blind to that?”

Bruce brings an elbow into his side and turns back to the camera. “No it isn’t. Ignore him.”

 

———

 

Blue Lagoon is just as much of a disaster.

Steve and Stephen are at each other’s throats so immediately and intensely that neither even makes an attempt to flirt with Tony, leaving him to talk with Quill and Clint while they continue their argument. Things continue to escalate until it very nearly gets physical. Stephen slips his sling ring on and opens a portal just moments before Steve’s fist is able to connect with his jaw. Steve disappears through the fiery hoop hovering above the water…

Only to reemerge three feet away and knock Clint Barton clean on his ass with all his unspent momentum.

“Agh, [censored]! What the [censored] Rogers?”

“Sorry! It was his fault!”

“You literally just punched me in the back of the head! How is that on Strange?”

Tony winces from the sidelines, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Quill, feet swinging in the water. “That’s gonna leave a mark.” 

“Should we do something?”

“Nah,” he says, taking Quill’s arm and putting it around his waist. Quill brightens and takes the hint, pulling Tony closer. “Just tell me more about Andromeda.”

 

———

 

At the end of the week, the contestants are greeted not by Tony, but by a more-exasperated-than-usual-looking Phil.

“Gentlemen. Tony is seeing Peter off at the airport. He has asked me to inform you that there will be no rose ceremony tonight. You are all safe.”

Steve sighs with audible relief.

 

———

 

_Steve Rogers_  
_99 (Biologically 33)_  
_Captain America, Tony’s Ex_

Steve runs a hand through his hair, wincing. “I really thought Tony was going to send me home this week; I’ve been pushing it lately. I just feel so terrible about hitting Clint. I mean, it was Strange’s fault, but I was the one who threw the first punch. Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it. But Tony doesn’t deserve that kind of stress. I’m gonna make it up to him. Soon. I’m gonna win him back. I just… I still love him. I really do. Sometimes I wish I didn’t, but I do.” He takes a shaky breath. “I wish things could just go back to the way they were.”

 

———

 

Tony is taking his tie off when a knock at the door interrupts him. 

“Swear to god, if that’s Rogers I’m done with this whole [censored] thing. Pulling the plug. È finito. Still don’t understand why you have to keep a camera on me in the privacy of my own room by the way, don’t think I won’t take that up with the studio tomorrow morning.”

The knocking persists.

“Alright, keep your pants on! What could anyone possibly need from me past eleven– oh.”

He opens the door and T’Challa stands on the other side, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of his head with one hand. In the other is held a single purple iris.

“I apologize for disturbing you so late, Anthony.”

“No, no, not at all, you’re actually pretty low on the list of people I don’t wan’t to see right now, all things considered. Thank you for this, it’s lovely.” He puts the iris in an open bottle of water on his nightstand. “If I have to even look at one more rose I think I’m going to lose my mind. So was that the only reason you came? You want to come in and talk? You’ll have to do it in front of the camera, unfortunately. Couldn’t seem to shake them.”

T’Challa briefly glares into the camera from over Tony’s head before turning his attention back to the object of affection. “Do you want me to remove them?”

“I’ve gotten enough lawsuit threats from ABC as is, but the offer is appreciated.” He gives T’Challa a brief kiss on the cheek. They both pretend not to see the other blush.

“Come. I have something to show you.”

T’Challa leads a hesitant Tony out of the mansion and down a grassy path beside the cliffs.

“This isn’t going to be a long hike kind of a thing, is it?”

“Have a little patience, Anthony. It is not much longer.”

“And would you just call me Tony? The whole _Anthony Edward Stark_ bullcrap makes me feel like my dad.”

T’Challa’s mouth starts to twitch up at the corners. “Your middle name is Edward?”

“Hush, it was the 70s. I could’ve made it out a whole lot worse. Where are we going?”

“You are beginning to act like my sister.”

“I’ve met your sister, so I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“Perhaps it was intended as one,” T’Challa chuckles, “but that does not change that you and she share the same stubborn refusal to be led. Do not pout; it is a much more endearing trait on you. We are almost there.”

They come to a flat outcropping on the cliff’s edge overlooking the ocean and Tony gasps. What has to be at least a hundred candles are lit in a wide circle and slowly dripping wax into all the cracks and rough edges of the rock beneath them. In the center of the circle, surrounded by rose petals: a small table, two chairs, and plates piled high with food.

“A meal fit for a king.” T’Challa winks as he helps Tony into his seat.

“A king. Right. Hey I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, actually.”

“Ah-ah-ah.” He wags a finger in Tony’s direction from across the table. “What is it that you Americans say? We will cross that bridge when we arrive there?”

“Well yeah, but your responsibilities–”

“No buts, _Tony_. Tonight is not a night to be worried about the uncertainties of the future; leave that for tomorrow. Let go of your troubles. Take a breath. There are no roses here, no competitions or schemes for your affection. The only thing that demands our immediate attention is this bottle of wine.”

Tony sighs, finally letting a bit of tension fall from his shoulders and reaching across the table to lay his hand over T’Challa’s. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that it’s a little hard for me to wind down these days.” 

“That is completely understandable.”

“And… and nobody’s really done this for me before.” Tony lets out a nervous laugh. “So thank you. For that.”

“You are more than welcome, Tony,” T’Challa says quietly, face going soft. “No one is more deserving than you.”

He leans over the table and catches Tony’s lips with his own in the gentle, seemingly endless glow of the hundred candles around them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Updates should be back to about every other day and the whole thing should be done by next week. Thank you for your patience :)
> 
> Next on The Bachelor:
> 
> Everything's coming up Steve!


	6. Week Six - New York City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is on his home turf now and he's ready to take advantage of his one last chance to win Tony back. A nice group date night in is derailed when the guys can't decide on what to eat. Responsibility rears its ugly head a few weeks too early for King T'Challa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note: From now on, unless Peter Parker is featured in an episode, Peter Quill will now be referred to by his first name, because it felt weird to write his last name every time, but it felt a whole lot weirder not to differentiate between the two given the circumstances.

Phil walks into the living room on Monday morning instead of Tony, cards already out of the envelopes and ready to be announced.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asks.

“Indisposed, apparently.”

“Wait. Where’s T’Challa?” Stephen asks, looking around with a frown.

“Couldn’t say. That’s enough of the questions, everyone, let’s get this over with.”

“Is this going to be a thing now? You reading the cards instead of Tony?”

“I said no more questions, Barton. And no. This is a one-time thing.”

“You mean a two-time thing.”

“First date,” Coulson says loudly, doing his best to ignore Clint. “One on one. Rogers.”

Steve looks ready to jump Phil out of sheer joy, the question of Tony and T’Challa’s absence seemingly forgotten.

“Group date will be King T’Challa, Barton, Strange, and Quill. Dinner and a walkabout. Tony specified that he wanted you all to choose the restaurant, make sure you do that before arriving. Oh, you’re all going to New York, by the way. Flight leaves in two hours”

 

———

 

Steve decides to just have Tony over at his apartment in Brooklyn. Tony doesn’t argue. Steve goes on ahead to straighten the place up after over a month’s absence. He barely has time to make a cup of coffee before the doorbell rings.

“Tony,” he says, flustered. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last week–”

“You don’t need me to clear your conscience for you, you’ve always been good at that. Is that coffee? Got any more?” 

Steve presses his lips together and lets out the breath he had been holding in. He passes his own mug to Tony. “I almost forgot how much of an ass you can be when you put your mind to it.”

“I guess things really don’t change.”

“Maybe not. But people do.”

“Do they now? That’s funny.” Tony sips at the coffee and grimaces. “If this is another attempt at an apology, it’s only slightly less terrible than the last one.”

“I won’t apologize for what I think is right, Tony, you know that.”

“Yeah, that sounds familiar. Sorry, who’s doing the changing in this scenario?”

“You, actually.”

Tony raises a brow, taking another sip of his coffee.

“You have a big heart, Tony. You always have. But I’m really happy to see you now, not being afraid to show that you care every once in a while.”

“Maybe I’ve always been like this and you just couldn’t see all the way down here from up on that high horse of yours.”

“Did you just accidentally make a height joke about yourself?”

“I genuinely hate you. Alright, ugh, I can’t drink this crap anymore. What is this, all milk and sugar? Got any mints?”

“Medicine cabinet, bottom shelf.” Steve gestures vaguely down the hall. “Not my fault you exclusively drink motor oil.”

Tony flips him off on his way into the bathroom. 

He comes out a few moments later looking a little puzzled, holding a pack of cigarettes.

“Steve? You still smoking? I thought you were all caught up with the times. Like the part where it turns out these things actually cause lung cancer rather than cure it.” 

Steve shuffles his feet awkwardly. “They’re, ah, not mine.”

Tony can’t hide the disappointment that falls over his face. “Of course. He lives here. With you.”

“Not always! Sometimes he stays at Sam’s place now. We’re working on getting him his own place, he’s adjusting pretty well, all things considered.”

“Oh yeah, no, that’s great for him. Thanks for that. Tell me more, I really want to hear how Barnes is adjusting so well.”

“Tony,” Steve says, chastising.

“You know what? I’m past it. Fine. Whatever.”

“Really?”

“No,” Tony scoffs, surprisingly lacking malice. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Please.”

They stand there in the kitchen, Tony still holding the cigarettes loosely, until Steve takes them out of his hand and sets them on the counter.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says, inclining his head towards one of the living room windows. “I want to show you something.”

He opens the window open to reveal a small cast-iron balcony railing that looks barely big enough to fit Tony comfortably, let alone both of them. He climbs out first, pushing his knees up to his chest and sitting on the outside edge of the windowsill. He gestures for Tony to do the same. He does, after some period of uncertainty. They sit in silence and watch the street below for a few minutes.

“Your apartment is so low to the ground. The tower was high enough you could see the stars above all that light pollution, you know.” Backs to the camera, their silhouettes are dark against the final hazy minutes of sunset reflected in the windows of adjacent buildings. The only sliver of sky in range of the camera is grey with smog. 

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “I helped you put up the curtains.”

“That was a while ago.”

“Do you still, uh…”

“I can look up at night without having a panic attack now, if that’s what you’re asking. You want me to ask about your PTSD now? Make it a real bonding moment?”

“Sorry.” Steve tries to take Tony’s hand and he pulls it away. Steve frowns but says nothing.

They fall into a somewhat uncomfortable silence.

“This is weird,” Tony says abruptly.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, it kind of is.” He drums his fingers against the railing of his little matchbox balcony, looking for something to say. “How’s Peter?”

“Fine. Bright as hell. Causes me no end of trouble with that suit.” Tony hesitates. “Reminds me of you, sometimes.”

“How so?”

“Won’t fight with anything other than his hands. And I don’t want him to, but like, not even basic safety precautions built into the suit. Stubborn to a fault. Can’t be kept from doing what’s right when he really sets his mind to it. And… and he has a good heart. Makes me proud every day.”

“Oh.” Steve clears his throat, hiding his smile with his hand. “How about Pepper and Happy?”

That has Tony launching into a tirade about their upcoming nuptials and all the resistance he’s encountered trying to help them plan.

“And they won’t let me rent out an island… two closest people to me in the whole world and won’t even let me do something as simple as that, said they wanted a New York wedding. Ok, New York wedding? Carnegie Hall, then. Obviously. So I tried to get Carnegie Hall, but they wouldn’t. Wouldn’t even…” Tony mumbles to a halt, head falling against Steve’s shoulder.

“Tony? Are you okay?”

He jolts up. “What? Oh, sorry.”

“You just trailed off mid-sentence.” Steve looks closely at Tony, eyes narrow. “You getting enough rest?”

Tony shrugs noncommittally and yawns. “Do I ever?”

“You can just sleep, if you want. Don’t let me keep you.”

“But you’ve been waiting for this date for six weeks.”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to shrug. Tony sighs, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh for [censored] sake. Listen, Cap, I wasn’t gonna do this, but you’re just too… I just can’t send you home right now, so.” He pauses and searches his jacket pockets with growing urgency, swearing under his breath. “I didn’t bring the rose.”

 

———

 

“What?” Tony crosses his arms defensively at the camera from his interview chair. “I didn’t think I’d need it!”

 

———

 

“It’s fine. This is fine. Stay there, before I change my mind.” Tony jumps up and crawls back through the window, grabbing a page out of Steve’s closest sketchbook and scribbles over it in pen until the paper is filled with red. He rips a corner off and tapes it to a green paintbrush he finds in the sink, walking back through window and settling back in his spot next to Steve, legs first. 

“Steve, will you accept this rose?”

He nods, dazed.

“There,” Tony says, pinning the ‘rose’ to the pocket of Steve’s t-shirt and smoothing the paper down against his chest, hands lingering for just a moment. “Don’t make me regret this, mon capitaine.”

Steve looks down at him with wide eyes and Tony looks back, face twisted almost comically in apprehension. 

“Can– can I kiss you?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Tony hesitates, then, against his better judgment, tilts his head towards Steve and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

 

———

 

_Steve Rogers_  
_99 (Biologically 33)_  
_Captain America, Tony’s Ex_

Steve looks wildly at the camera, one hand running self-consciously through his hair and smile threatening to split his face in half. “Did you see that?”

_“That’s what the cameras are for, yeah.”_

Steve only grins wider. 

 

———

 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Peter Quill whispers loudly, reaching across Stephen for Clint’s binoculars.

“Me, maybe,” Stephen says.

“Something personal that we should not be eavesdropping on,” T’Challa says.

“Probably somethin’ dirty. You should’ve seen those two in their heyday, it was all innuendo. “Oh, Cap, you can polish _my_ shield anytime.’” Clint says in an airy voice, leaning back from the binoculars and fanning his face with one hand.

“Are you an actual child? What does that even mean?”

He sticks out his tongue.

“We should not be here,” T’Challa insists. “If Tony catches us–”

“That’s what we’ve got the good doctor over there for, man. Clean escape.”

Stephen shakes his head and rises from his seat on the edge of the rooftop that Clint had chosen as their perch, opening a portal to the Sanctum. “As pleasant as this _hasn’t_ been, gentlemen, I’d like to get some real work done before we’re needed back at the apartment.” He slips through before anyone can follow.

“Wh– wait, no! I didn’t bring cab fare! Get the [censored] back here, Strange!”

 

———

 

Tony sits up from where he had been dozing off, head against the window frame. “Did you hear something?”

“Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

 

———

 

_Stephen Strange, M.D., Ph.D._  
_41_  
_Sorcerer Supreme of Earth, Former Renowned Neuroscientist_

“I can’t believe Rogers got a rose. Unbelievable. I’m beside myself. What could he have possibly said to get back in Tony’s good graces, after nearly killing him? I just don’t trust him. I have no doubt in my mind that he just isn’t here for the right reasons.”

 

———

 

The following days pass until it’s time for another group date. Just five minutes into their quiet walk in central park and they’ve already run into trouble picking a restaurant for lunch. Peter Quill wants some classic New York pizza; Stephen knows a nice Himalayan place down the block from the Sanctum; Clint, believe it or not, could actually go for some shawarma.

“You know what? Alright,” Tony says, after their third time around this argument. “If you three grown ass men can’t cooperate for the thirty seconds it takes to decide on a meal, we’re doing all of them. Let’s go. Quill first.”

Even Clint looks a little too abashed to argue with that.

“I would have been happy with whatever you had decided on, Tony,” T’Challa says, self-effacing almost to a fault.

“I know.” Tony pats him on the shoulder. Peter makes a face behind their backs.

Clint gets his shawarma in the end. Peter gets his roadside stand pizza. Stephen’s suggestion turns out to be closed by the time they reach it, and they spend another hour tracking down his second choice before he realizes the restaurant he had been thinking of was actually in Kathmandu. The date goes over time by around four hours, and everyone is dead on their feet by the time they reach the apartment.

T’Challa gets the group date rose simply by virtue of the fact that he did nothing to ruin it.

 

———

 

There are two roses on the table when the contestants enter the mansion on Sunday for the rose ceremony.

“Clint, will you accept this rose?”

Clint winks and steps up to receive it.

“Final rose, gentlemen,” Tony nods towards Peter and Stephen. “Steve, I guess you’re safe. T’Challa, you’re safe–”

“Actually, Tony, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” T’Challa says, taking the rose off of his lapel and stepping up to set it back on the table. “Might we speak outside?”

T’Challa guides Tony out onto the porch, one hand on the small of his back, where they talk for a few minutes. Tony holds up a hand to shake, and T’Challa nudges it aside and leans in for a hug.

When they return, Tony clears his throat to get the attention of the remaining contestants. “T’Challa recently received a call. He’s needed back in Wakanda. Nothing serious, my understanding is that it’s just important administrative stuff. So you’re all safe.” He turns to address T’Challa. “I can walk you out to the plane, if you’d like.”

“I think I would like that. Thank you, Tony,” T’Challa says, taking his hand.

 

———

 

_T’Challa_  
_34_  
_King of Wakanda_

“It could not have gone much further than that, anyway. I am a king, after all. Tony was right. I do have responsibilities.” He smiles politely at the camera crew. “Would you take my microphone off? I do not want to damage your equipment by handling it improperly.”

 

———

 

Tony sits crosslegged on the tarmac and watches T’Challa’s plane depart for Wakanda. Phil approaches and sits beside him.

“You alright, Stark?”

Tony laughs ruefully. “Yeah. Would be nice if this whole thing was over soon, though.”

“The feeling is mutual. Trust me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on The Bachelor: 
> 
> Tony sees the stars. Steve also sees stars, in a manner of speaking.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [i really hate group dates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685381) by [tonystxnks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystxnks/pseuds/tonystxnks)




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